


Miraculous Ladybug: Hope and Hate

by ViziVoir



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Miraculous Ladybug Love Square, Miraculous Ladybug PV, Plot, Slow Burn, im honestly not too sure about tag convention for this site so let me know if something's awry, tags to be updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 21:13:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12849651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViziVoir/pseuds/ViziVoir
Summary: When mysterious kwami Tikki bursts into Bridgette Dupain-Cheng’s life, everything changes. Her family’s struggling bakery starts to prosper, she does better in her classes, and one more thing: she’s a superhero now.When mischievous kwami Plagg bursts into Félix Agreste’s life, everything changes. On top of his modeling career and education, now he has to worry about being a superhero: the biggest, most important secret he’s ever tried to keep from his father.This is one author’s take on what could have been had the PV become a full series, emulating the format of an anime. An ambitious project, to be sure, but you readers are my motivation! Track updates, ask questions, and check out other goodies at my tumblr: https://hope-and-hate.tumblr.com/





	Miraculous Ladybug: Hope and Hate

It was the first day of Bridgette Dupain-Cheng’s last year of school at Lycée Françoise Dupont. This was it. The beginning of the end, she thought, standing in front of the building as she took a moment to try to psyche herself up.

Straggling students paid her no mind as they trudged into the school, a well-renovated but antiquated building just like all the others in this neighborhood. The heavy warmth of late summer was stirred up by a timid breeze, carrying with it the fragrance of the pink flowers growing in pots just in front of the entrance. The city’s urban clutter was evident in scent and sound, but this was as peaceful as it ever got.

It would have been the perfect day, had Bridgette’s heart not still been pounding from being forced to hurry through her morning routine after waking up half an hour late.

And so, with mismatched socks and unkempt hair, Bridgette jumped up the steps and into her terminale year. She ignored the teachers directing nervous second years, opting to head straight up a staircase towards her first hour literature class. Grabbing a heavily folded paper from her pocket, she checked her room number without slowing down. She was already close to being late as it was. Black and white checkered tile seemed almost to blur under her feet as she threw the classroom’s door open, nearly skidding past it entirely.

It seemed like she was more on time than she’d thought, judging from the fact that only half of the room’s seats were filled. The students looked up at her with varying degrees of curiosity as she stood awkwardly in the doorway, and Bridgette took the opportunity to do a quick assessment of her classmates.

Alya was already there, of course. She’d probably been sitting in that spot for upwards of ten minutes - probably organizing her planner, judging from the scribbles she’d been making in it. Right now, though, Alya was beckoning Bridgette towards the seat right next to her.

Bridgette entered and sat down next to her, still examining the room. Besides Alya, there was a pair of girls sitting in the back who seemed to perfectly exemplify the goth/prep duality, a girl with colorful braids, a red haired boy doodling in the corner, and a girl with glasses that seemed almost too big for her face. The teacher sat at her desk, clicking at something on her computer.

“Know any of these people?” she asked Alya quietly. Bridgette had just moved to Paris about a year ago, and hadn’t managed to make many friends in that time.

Alya pointed to the girl in the front row. “Sabrina. Huge nerd.”

“Wow, coming from you? That’s impressive.”

“Shut up.” Alya punched Bridgette lightly, before continuing. “The girls behind us are Juleka and Rose, and I think the guy drawing over there is Noah?” She scrunched up her nose, concentrating. “Something like that, anyway.”

“Alright, okay. Cool.” Bridgette took another deep breath, putting her hands out in front of her in a calming gesture. “I’m really lucky I’ve got first hour with you, huh?”

“Sure are. You okay, girl?”

Bridgette had to hold back a sigh. Alya was always worrying. “Yeah, fine. I just woke up late today, is all.”

“Mm. I figured something like that’d happened.” Alya gestured at Bridgette’s hair, which currently resembled a particularly ornery bush.

“Is it that obvious?” Bridgette bit her lip and tried to smooth down her hair aggressively, a piece on the top springing back up after every stroke. Two more students trickled in.

She froze suddenly, then wilting just as fast. “I just remembered I have to take a new picture for my ID during after lunch.”

Alya drew in air through her teeth. “Yikes. That’s unlucky.”

“You’re telling me!” Bridgette let out an exasperated moan. “This was supposed to be the year I finally talked to Félix, and everything’s already going wrong! He’s never going to like me at this rate.”

“You have got to pick a better senpai.” She backpedaled furiously at Bridgette’s angry glare. “I just mean, Félix is never going to notice anyone! He’s so serious. I’ve only ever seen him talk to one person outside of class, and, well...”

“Chloé.” Bridgette spat out the name like it was dirt.

“Yeah. Still not sure why he puts up with her,” she mused. “I’d ask, but he probably wouldn’t even talk to me.”

“Honestly,” fumed Bridgette. “That girl drives me absolutely-”

Alya grabbed Bridgette’s shoulder and pointed behind her. “Speak of the devil, and she will appear.”

Bridgette turned to see Chloé, close enough to Félix to brush shoulders with him, talking loudly as he delivered his characteristic uninterested expression. She bristled with resentment so strong it actually made her hair stand even more on end. Chloé, completely oblivious, led Félix over to the two seats closest to the door: directly next to Bridgette.

“Ugh, it’s only the first day and I already can’t wait to get out of here,” Chloé griped. Bridgette covertly continued glaring daggers at her as she pulled out the seat just to her left, Félix sitting primly at the last seat in the row.

“At least French lit is an easy class to start out with,” she continued, picking invisible lint off of her jacket. The other girl acknowledged Bridgette with a quick saccharine smile, and turned back to Félix. “Don’t you have calculus first thing tomorrow?” He nodded. “That sucks.”

“It won’t be that bad,” Félix replied cooly. Bridgette sat rigid as they talked, adrenaline coursing through her.

“Hey, Chloé! Think you can do something about this?” Alya called out suddenly, gesturing to Bridgette’s hair.

Chloé put her hands up to her mouth in a gesture Bridgette thought was more dramatic than necessary. “Oh wow. Yeah, that’s not, good.” Bridgette looked at Alya incredulously, shocked at her best friend’s betrayal. She just shrugged. “Here, take your hair ties out,” Chloé instructed, pulling a miniature hairbrush and a comb from her bag. Despite herself, Bridgette complied.

The blonde girl styled her hair with practiced efficiency. “Okay, this isn’t actually too bad. Seems like you just haven’t been brushing it regularly.” She worked out a particularly uncooperative tangle. “And, done!”

Alya nodded appreciatively. “That’s really good, Chloé, thanks.”

“No problem. Couldn’t have her walking around looking like that, after all.” She returned to talking at Félix.

“What did you do that for?” hissed Bridgette, tying her hair back into twin ponytails.

“Hey, it was for your own good. I’ve seen the number of hair products she keeps in her locker, and this way, you aren’t stuck with a terrible ID picture.”

Those were both good points. Bridgette sighed. “Yeah, I guess. Thanks.”

“You got it.” Alya smiled smugly. Her attention shifted away from Bridgette when another student entered. “Hey, Nino’s in this class!” She waved at the nervous boy who’d just entered. He gave her a halfhearted wave back, moving to one of the few empty seats.

The teacher - Mme Bustier, Bridgette confirmed, with a glance at her schedule - stood up from her desk and addressed the class. “Good morning, everyone. It seems like we’re still missing someone, but let’s go ahead and get started anyway.”

The twelfth student, a diminutive, pink-haired girl with an angry disposition, arrived in the middle of attendance. She flopped into her desk, dropping a heavily decorated skateboard next to her.

First hour went by smoothly, despite the fact that Bridgette had to sit next to her nemesis. Language was not one of her strong suits, academically or just in general, but Mme Bustier seemed like a reasonably nice person, and the syllabus she handed out was clear enough.

Periodically, Bridgette snuck a quick look at Félix, whose expression hardly seemed to change. Every time, she caught her face heating up. Once, he met her eyes, and she could’ve sworn her heart was about to explode in her chest. She kept herself stalwartly focused on Mme Bustier’s lecture after that.

Class finished about fifteen minutes early. Bridgette tucked her syllabus, covered in doodles, into one of her folders, and noticed Félix walk up to the teacher.

“Madame Bustier, Chloé and I were wondering if we could spend our remaining time in the library. We’d like to preview some of the works our class will be examining this term.”

The teacher nodded. “That’s very proactive of you, Félix. Go ahead.”

Bridgette watched Chloé’s ponytail bounce as she left the room at Félix’s side. That girl was definitely going to be her biggest obstacle in winning Félix’s heart, she knew it.

At her side, Alya had pulled a video of something up on her phone and was listening to it with earbuds in. “What’s that?” asked Bridgette, hoping for something to distract her after the tense class period she’d just endured.

“APD is holding a competition to see who’s going to be their new weather announcer, and they’re announcing the results right now. I could watch it later, but I need to get an article about it on my blog asap.”

“Ah.” Bridgette leaned over to get a better view of the video, which showed an enthusiastic announcer with two women to each side of him. “So, which one do you want to win?”

Alya snorted. “Is that even a question? Mireille, duh.” She pointed at the girl on the announcer’s left, who had short black hair and a shy smile. “She’s cute, for one thing, and she used to go to school here. It’s a no brainer.” She handed Bridgette one of her earbuds. “I already sent in my vote earlier.”

Onscreen, the announcer was working himself into a frenzy. “And now, the moment you’ve all been oh so patiently waiting for! The results are in! The votes have been tallied!” Bridgette winced at his over-the-top enthusiasm.

Mireille crossed her fingers, while her competitor stared defiantly into the camera. “The winner is...”

“Mireille!” Confetti cannons went off as the crowd cheered wildly.

Alya nodded. “It was pretty obvious. She was the fan favorite, for sure.”

The slight girl took the announcer’s microphone and addressed the camera. “I’d like to thank my friends, and family, and especially the faculty of Lycée Françoise Dupont. Without you, I wouldn’t be standing here today. Thank you so-”

Mireille’s tearful victory speech was interrupted by a crack of thunder. The camera moved sporadically, before settling on a person who had to be the losing candidate, but she’d been completely transformed. Her hair was much longer, now black, with neon blue streaks, and her umbrella seemed more like a vicious weapon, its folds almost undulating. Bridgette gaped.

“You’re all idiots!” she screeched. “I should have won, not that pathetic excuse for a dishrag.” She sneered, brandishing her umbrella, which shot vicious chunks of ice into the screaming audience. A bolt struck Mireille, and she was instantly encased in ice. “You said those at Lycée Françoise Dupont made this possible for you, do you?” Lightning crackled between her fingertips as she waggled them teasingly at the camera, tapping her umbrella on the floor behind her.

“Ugh, you make me sick. I guess I’ll just have to go pay them a visit, then! Climatika, signing off.” She blew a kiss at the camera and winked. A blast of lightning from her umbrella reduced the feed to static.

Bridgette and Alya stared at the flickering screen, then at each other. “What was that?” Bridgette squawked, at the same time as Alya said, “That can’t be real, right?”

“Okay, okay, okay. Maybe it was some kind of, I don’t know, weird publicity stunt,” Bridgette tried to rationalize.

Alya shook her head. “No way. This contest’s been hyped up for weeks, and besides, that really isn’t their style.”

Bridgette bit her finger nervously. “So what’s going to happen, then?”

“I don’t know, but there’s no way she even knows where this school is. The police will handle it, and it’ll be fine.” Alya exhaled. “This is way too much excitement for our first day back.”

A thundercrack echoed throughout the school, sending the class into confusion. The announcement system crackled to life.

 

“The school is now undergoing immediate evacuation,” came the principal’s voice. It sounded like he was barely keeping it together. “Please exit the building in an orderly fashion. This is not a drill.” The line went dead.

“Okay, I stand corrected. That’s our cue to get out of here,” Alya said, pulling Bridgette from her seat and dragging her towards the door.

“Wait! What about Félix?”

“No.” Alya shook her head firmly. “He can leave the building just like the rest of us. There is absolutely no way you’re running off and putting yourself in danger to go find Félix.” She paused. “Alone, that is,” she acquiesced.

Bridgette threw her arms around Alya in a brief hug, then took advantage of Mme Bustier’s distraction to dart out of the classroom.

It was a wonder Alya didn’t sprain an ankle trying to keep up with Bridgette’s frenzied sprint down the staircase. Before long, they heard maniacal laughter bouncing off the walls up ahead. Alya did her best to pull Bridgette back, but the overzealous girl’s momentum carried her around the corner, where they narrowly avoided careening directly into the dark purple dress of the self-proclaimed Climatika.

She whirled around, ponytails flying wildly, as Bridgette stared just behind her, where Félix and Chloé were pinned to the wall by a sheer blanket of glittering ice. Only part of Félix’s jacket was caught, and he was struggling against it as hard as he could. Chloé was almost completely engulfed, but seemed unharmed - at least, unharmed enough to yell, “Run, idiots!”

Félix managed to free himself and started trying to shatter Chloé’s prison as Climatika pointed her umbrella directly at Bridgette, an aura of cold radiating from its tip.

She couldn’t move.

Alya slammed into her side, shoving her away as Climatika fired. Bridgette’s gut wrenched at the sight of her friend completely engulfed in ice. “Alya!”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get out of here!” Her head snapped in the direction of Chloé’s shrill screech, where Félix was trying desperately to break the ice trapping her. The amount of distress in his actions seemed excessive, to Bridgette: after all, it was just Chloé.

He ducked away and broke out into a sprint, the next attack from Climatika narrowly missing Bridgette’s shoulder. She ran, tears stinging her vision, thoughts a white-hot blur of fear and panic.

Before she knew it, Bridgette was a block away from the school and still racing. There was no one around; everyone was probably trying to get as far away as possible from the maniacal weatherlady, and the murky black clouds that surely must be related.

She nearly avoided an already-melting patch of ice in the dim light. Between pounding heartbeats Bridgette realized, foggily, she should stop panicking and find help.

No sooner had she reached this conclusion than she collided with an elderly Asian man who’d seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He fixed her with the kindest smile she’d ever seen on a person even as she stumbled backwards, staring stupidly. “Oh, I’m very sorry,” he apologized. “I should watch where I’m going.” The man chuckled warmly, walking away at a surprisingly brisk pace.

Bridgette stared after him in bewilderment, peril momentarily forgotten with how surreal the encounter had been. How could he be so calm? Dazed, she noticed a plain black jewelry box lying on the sidewalk, scuff marks decorating its surface. It must belong to the man she’d just run into.

She scooped up the box, taking a step to go after him, but it seemed like he’d already turned a corner out of earshot. At least there didn’t seem to be any lightning or ice shooting towards her from the school, but the storm clouds overhead were probably a bad sign.

Right, focus. Bridgette shook her head, trying to clear her muddled thoughts. She had to find someone to help.

She was about to shove the box into her pocket and keep running, when she was seized with the sudden overwhelming desire to see what was inside. Maybe whatever it was could help her track down the old man who’d dropped it, and in any case, a quick peek wouldn’t take long.

The box snapped open with a satisfying click. Inside was a pair of gold earrings carved into the shape of twin ladybugs, just starting to take flight, resting on a square of smooth red velvet. The design was smooth and stylized, but truthfully, Bridgette had seen much prettier jewelry in her mother’s small collection.

Nonetheless, despite the urgency of her mission, despite the fact that her friends’ lives could potentially hang in the balance, Bridgette couldn’t resist the mysterious aura surrounding the earrings. She examined them in one hand, dropping the box to the ground disinterestedly. They sparkled mesmerizingly, even in the shadowy environment created by the burgeoning storm.

A pair of police cars raced by, sirens blaring. She barely registered them, she was so focused on the earrings. When they were clasped securely, Bridgette’s eyes fluttered closed. She couldn’t help the small gasp that fell from her lips as the world seemed to fade away around her, flooding back in a way that was indescribably different from before. She felt lighter, but somehow stronger. Like she could race a marathon without breaking a sweat, or, or...

She opened her eyes, and was greeted with the sight of a small, floating, fairy-like creature staring at her with impossibly large bug eyes. Its short, stubby arms were clasped together nervously, and its body was red, with a black clover marking on its forehead.

Bridgette screamed.

“Hey, wait, calm down!” The fairy creature moved her arms in a soothing motion, antennae flicking with an emotion Bridgette couldn’t identify. “It’s okay, you’re okay, shh, shhh.”

Between breaths that were coming too fast, Bridgette managed to stammer, “What. Who. How? I’m hallucinating. Oh, wow, I’m actually going crazy, aren’t I,” she babbled, verging on genuine hyperventilation.

“Okay, let’s start from the beginning. I’m a kwami, my name is Tikki. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The creature - Tikki - mimed a short curtsy in midair, training its impossibly large eyes on Bridgette’s face. “As for how, well, I’m not quite sure, but you’re definitely not hallucinating. Or crazy. We can talk more later, there’s not much time.”

Bridgette managed to control her breathing to a more manageable level. “I know. I know there’s not much time. My friend is being held hostage or, or worse, by some crazy weather megalomaniac...” She trailed off, biting back more tears. “Felix is god knows where, and, and, this humidity and all this running is messing up my hair again!” She gasped, careening back towards panic.

“It’s okay,” the kwami said again. “I can fix all of that, I promise. Even the hair, actually, but I need your help. What’s your name?”

 

“Bridgette.”

“That’s a lovely name,” Tikki said, clearly still trying to calm her down. “Now, you’re going to have to transform.”

“Transform? Into what?” Bridgette asked, hysteria edging back into her voice.

“A superhero.”

Under any other circumstance, Bridgette might have burst out laughing. The idea of her, the subpar student who could barely even scrape by with a C on a history test, who had been crushing on a boy who didn’t even know her name for a year now, Bridgette, a superhero?

As it was, she was barely able to get out a choked bark of laughter. “I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

Tikki shook her head insistently and actually pouted, an expression quite at odds with the seriousness of the situation. “That’s not how this works, Bridgette.”

“No, listen, I have enough to worry about without weird looking fairy things trying to convince me that I have superpowers, or something. This is way too much for the first day of school. I’m out,” she said, throwing her hands up in resignation and turning to walk away. She stopped short, realizing she had no idea where to go.

Tikki zipped around Bridgette, hovering in front of her face. “Do you want to save your friends, or not, Bridgette?”

 

“I can’t,” Bridgette insisted.

“You’re the only one who can do this. Just say the word.”

Some blocks behind her, the police had surely filed into her school building by now. Her eyes widened at the thought of maybe four or five cops trying to apprehend someone who could be classified as a supervillain. Bridgette was pretty sure that would go very badly. There was only one person capable of defeating a supervillain in stories, after all...

“Okay. Okay, fine, then.” The deep breath she took did little to calm her. “Transform me, then, or whate-”

Bridgette’s breath was whisked away as that feeling of the world shifting around her returned, in full force. The ground seemed to sway under her as a foreign sensation engulfed her, a tingling rush spreading from her ears and out through her body.

There was a brief moment of nausea when the transformation was complete, and Bridgette staggered, leaning against a tree as she pressed her hand to her mouth. Her hand, which was now covered in red fabric dotted with black spots. She pulled at it experimentally, but it seemed like she couldn’t even separate it from her skin. A million new worries raced through her mind, chief among them whether or not she’d even be able to transform back.

This was all just way too weird.

“Okay,” she said again, then three more times as if it would convince her. “Okay, okay, okay. Now what?”

Tikki was nowhere in sight.

“Oh, no. Oh no no no, this is bad.” Her hands twisted into her hair, which was somehow longer, tied up with ribbon.

However bad this was for her, though, she knew it was far worse for Alya. The thought itself nearly choked her. There was no way she could be-

Bridgette cut that thought off. At the very least, if she didn’t want a similar fate to befall most everyone at her school, she would need to fight. Fight a supervillain. This was fine.

The first step she took back to the school was the hardest, but her next strides came easier, pavement seeming to fly by as she returned to Lycée Françoise Dupont in what felt like far less time than it should’ve taken. Almost on reflex, she pushed open the door.

The entry foyer was almost suspiciously normal. Bridgette dashed to the hallway where Climatika had trapped her friends, but it was completely empty save for the melting ice staining the drywall.

The loudspeaker crackled to life. “Listen up, people! The principal better come down to the auditorium in the next five minutes, or - stop that! Ugh!” There was a squeal, then the sound cut out. Bridgette was already setting a speed record for sprinting to the auditorium, just hoping the police were able to do their job.

She froze at the sight that greeted her. Someone, clothed in black and with a belt streaming out behind him as he executed some impressive dodges, was fighting Climatika with a silver metal staff. A small group of policemen and women, as well as several students, were trapped in a hollow dome of ice that stretched over the seats.

When the masked vigilante noticed her, the ears on his costume almost seemed to swivel in her direction. He dived back into the fight, deftly thrusting his staff towards Climatika’s chest.

When Climatika noticed her, she found a spare moment after dodging the vigilante’s attack to shoot a deadly bolt of lightning in Bridgette’s direction.

**Author's Note:**

> APD stands for ‘a plot device’. Thanks for reading; we’ll see how this goes. I'm excited!
> 
> \---
> 
> The old man’s face was perfectly calm as he navigated around passerby, despite the turtle kwami flitting about his head frantically. “Do you think Tikki’s ready for a new partner?” he fretted, settling onto the man’s head. “Argh. I need a drink.”
> 
> “I’m sure she’s ready,” came the man’s voice in a low and gentle rumble. “She’ll have to be.”


End file.
